GRRRR!!!!

Dear John, 

I swear you have ticked me off for the last time! You get on my friggin’ nerves! And every time that I try to talk to you about the problems that we have…you are the one that gets defensive and start yelling.  

Just who in the heck do you think you are?!?! A king? Uh, NO! My ruler? Is that what it is John? Do you think I’m subservient to you? Oh, I forgot…you can be real dumb at times. That means that you think that I was put on this earth to cater to you and you would be so far from the truth it’s just sickening. That’s it John. YOU. MAKE. ME. SICK. I’ve given you so much of me that it seems that I’ve lost myself. I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror anymore because you have robbed me. You have taken away my giving spirit and crushed it. Oooo!!! I swear I wish I could press charges on you for that!!! I would have them throw you under the doggone jail!!! Just so you can rot like the scum that you are!  

Now, I know what that song meant when it said ‘it’s a thin line, between love and hate’. Because you know what John? You know what? I hate you now. I do. I want you to get hit by a mack truck and explode into little flaming pieces. Yeah, that would make me feel better. Yeah. That would make me feel better. 

Better? Good. Now, take this letter and burn it. Just like momma said, “You just can’t talk to people any kind of way.” You have taken your frustrations out on a piece of paper and now it’s time to get rid of it. So, when and if you finally decide to talk…your rationality will be contagious and the other person will take a page from your book and you both can have an adult conversation. 

However, if you have decided that you rather like the letter and want a personalized copy for your recipient…shame on you!!!  

(And send me a small processing fee of $29.95 plus shipping and handling.) 

Come on…you know I’m kidding. Well, about the fee anyway. But seriously burn the letter. As Marcel Proust once said, “There is no man, however wise, who has not at some period of his youth said things, or lived in a way the consciousness of which is so unpleasant to him in later life that he would gladly, if he could, expunge it from his memory.”

Quiet 

Idly, I sat by, as I watched you flutter

From rose to rose expecting to find nectar

Only to find the sweetness that you searched for

Had already been drained and you were left empty
 

Calmly, I stood by, as you became stagnant

Your smile and cheer waned with each passing day

Your heart’s desires seemed out of reach

And you felt as if the sun had set forever
 

Sadly, I didn’t speak, as I saw your plight

Biting my lip to prevent words from forming

Inner chaos threatening to tumble from my larynx

Exposing my emotion and baring my soul
 

Boldly, I attempted to help reassemble what you lost

Encouraging, consoling, and cajoling

All while wishing your emotional eye would open

Giving birth to your vision of love housed in me
 

In tears, with others, thought to be in joy

As again, I watched…this time in regret

As my turmoil was no longer, but now remained pain

As I became a witness to your martial bliss. 

Diamond

© Oct./2009